Other Children
by PhoenixRiver27
Summary: Harry Potter was a famous wizard, but not the only on in his year. This is about his would-be neighbour, and tells the story of Harry Potter from the point of view of someone else effected by the events around him.


**Other Children**

On the 31st July 1980, in a little village called Godric's Hollow, a very special baby was born. His name would be famous throughout the world for many, many years to come. His name was Harry Potter.

But this story is not about Harry Potter. It is about an equally special child, born on the same day, with a very different tale to tell, overshadowed by the notoriety and power of the infamous boy next door. She was initially a quiet child, but a sweet one, who over the years grew in confidence and made her own mark. Her name was Magdalena McKenna.

_October 31__st__ 1981_

The village of Godric's Hollow was awash with lanterns, carved from pumpkins of all shapes and sizes. The designs were infinite, the flames brightly casting out the encroaching night. The centre was quiet, save the murmur and occasional laughter of the residents safely tucked up in their homes. In the crooked old timber-framed cottage that was her home, a young toddler with hair the colour of dark honey, was standing up in her playpen, staring out of the window under which it sat. The cheery amber lights reflected in her pale hazel eyes. Every now and then she would glance at the quiet house at the end of the road, next to hers, housing the only other child her age in the village at that point. He was a little boy, and they had grown up together. She was blissfully unaware of the silent figured cloaked in black, walking through the woods, mere moments away.

"Magda!" a cheerful voice caused the toddler to turn her head, breaking her concentration. There was a strange, high-pitched note undercutting her mother's voice, alien to the infant's ears. "Come on baby girl, let's get you some pumpkin pie."

The baby girl blinked up at her parents, her father was putting on his winter coat by the door. He forced a smile when he caught his daughter looking. Magda tilted her head up to her mother's face as she was whisked into the air. As she was carried through the door, she glanced one more time at the house across the road, catching a glimpse of a long black cloak, before the window disappeared from view.

Much later that night, when she was tucked up in her cot, something caused her to stir. What had until then been, unbeknownst to her, a silence-spelled room, was interrupted by the far off voice of her father downstairs.

"I couldn't help."

_October 31__st__ 1986_

It had been five years since that Halloween. Magda's parents had explained what had happened as best as they could for a six year old to comprehend. She had perhaps a little more detailed information than she should, but Magda was impossible to lie to and she could see through anybody, including her own parents. It was a little unnerving. Old Bathilda down the road said she was an old soul in a young body. She had grown quite attached to the bright-eyed and curious child, already the most popular in the village.

Late in the morning, Magda, and her dozen young admirers and friends were sitting in the town square, easily visible from the McKenna's house, being entertained by one of Magda's marvellous stories about magical people and creatures. Only half of the children there knew that she drew her material from real life, constantly badgering her parents about her heritage and the boy next door. Even if they were completely oblivious to her prior knowledge, she was still an amazing orator from a young age. As her narrative about a brave wizard; based loosely on her father; fighting off an evil monster and saving a town ended, the children saw two white vans pull up, and four men got out.

"Over here," said one of them, a big man with a bushy moustache, "This is the central point. 'Scuse us kids."

The children scurried out of the way, watching the newcomers with thinly veiled suspicion. Many of the younger ones fled home, but their older siblings and Magda stayed and watched as block by block a large obelisk came together. The youngster, urged on by her peers, ran over to them.

"Hey Mister, whatcha doing?" she queried, sounding confident even though she was perhaps less than half the man's size, "What's that?"

The moustached construction worker looked down at her, "It's a statue lass. The village saved up to buy it and we're here to deliver."

"Magda!" came her father's voice across the square, "Come on in pup, lunch is ready."

Magda gave one more look at the man, then said goodbye to her comrades and ran over to her house, jumping into her father's arms. He smiled and spun her around, before setting her on her feet again and holding her hand as they walked inside.

At midnight that night, Magda was awoken by her mother gently shaking her whilst holding her three year old brother Matthew, who was asleep on her hip. The girl was confused as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. She thought she had overslept until she realised it was dark outside.

"Get dressed sweetheart," whispered her mother, trying not to wake Matthew.

A still-sleepy Magda pulled on her skirt and t-shirt, holding her mother's hand as they went downstairs to meet her father, who held her coat out for her. The door was open, letting a cold breeze thread through the house. The ruined cottage next door loomed in the dark. The faint sound of music could be heard outside. Putting on her hat, Magda walked out with her parents. The frosty grass crunched beneath their feet and mists of warm breath surrounded their heads. The little girl suddenly realised they were going to where the statue had been being built earlier in the day. There were more people there than she had ever seen in her life. They were all dressed very strangely, in robes of different colours, winter cloaks and pointed hats.

"Daddy?" Magda was astounded.

"Shush now pup," whispered her father.

As they got closer she saw a gold-orange halo around all of the visitors. The adults were all holding up wands, lighting up the obelisk and the sky surrounding it, the children were ushered forward, holding candles. The crowds parted as they saw the young family, and let Magda go to the front. There were many neighbours and friends she recognised. When she reached the base of the new structure, she was startled to see it grow and change shape. From out of nowhere, she was looking up at a statue of her neighbours, the Potters. Instinctively she knew that she was standing at the foot of a memorial. Without needing to be told, she took a tea light that was offered to her, lighting it from one of the flames already sitting on the base. She stared up in to the smiling stone eyes of the boy next door, as she laid it at his feet.


End file.
